Substitute Toyokawa Shoko, you can become stronger by breathing

But at this moment, the words of this strange man unexpectedly broke open the logical loop that he had always believed in.

Is the world boring, or am I just not finding a way to make it interesting?

A long-lost emotion, like a dormant volcano, began to stir and awaken in Kimura's heart.

It wasn't anger, it wasn't fear, it was... the competitive spirit that he thought was completely dead!

He stared at the man in front of him, examining him seriously for the first time.

The confidence, composure, and the aura that seemed to have the whole world at his fingertips emanated from this man were something he had never seen in anyone else.

"you..."

Kimura's voice was a little dry, "Who are you?"

"I?"

The man chuckled and extended his hand, his movements so graceful that it seemed as if he was not introducing himself but inviting him to dance.

"Kujo Renji. Just a player who understands the 'rules' a little better than you."

Kimura didn't shake the hand immediately.

His brain was working rapidly, evaluating the sudden changes in front of him.

Kujo Renji... He seemed to have vaguely heard this name somewhere, but he couldn't remember it for the moment.

"What do you want to prove?"

Kimura asked, sneering and asking back:

"Prove that this world isn't a crappy game? Or prove that I'm just a crappy player?"

"It's both, or rather, it doesn't matter."

Jiujo Renji shrugged, withdrew his hand, and put it back into his windbreaker pocket:

"I just think that before you choose 'Game Over', you should at least try a higher difficulty mode. Otherwise, wouldn't it be a waste of your pretty good brain?"

"A more difficult gameplay?"

"Yes."

He paused, locked his gaze on Kimura again, and made a suggestion that made the latter's heart suddenly contract:

"How about it? Are you interested in playing a real 'game' with me? I'll use this 'real world' as the chessboard."

Kimura fell silent. He could feel his heartbeat quickening, his blood heating up. The man before him was like a giant whirlpool, emitting a fatal attraction.

He knew it was dangerous and crazy, but the "player" in his heart who had been silent for too long was clamoring frantically: Accept him!

"...What are the rules of the game? What are the stakes?"

Kimura heard his own voice asking.

Kujo Renji smiled, as if he had expected him to ask this.

"Let's have a competition, using your best areas."

"If I win..."

Kujo Renji's tone became lighter:

"You have to admit that it's not that this world is boring, but that your previous 'playing' was too low-level. Furthermore, you have to sign this 'employee contract', become mine, and work for me. Of course, I will teach you some truly interesting 'playing'."

He pulled out a folded document from the inner pocket of his windbreaker, with the words "Employee Contract" clearly printed on it.

"What if you lose?" Kimura stared at the contract and asked.

The smile on Kujo Renji's face grew wider, with an almost crazy confidence.

"If I lose..."

He spoke word by word:

"Then I admit that you are right. This world is indeed a hopelessly rubbish game. Then..."

He leaned closer to Kimura and whispered in a voice that only the two of them could hear:

"I'll jump right here with you. How's that? Fair enough, right?"

Die with him?

Kimura was completely stunned.

He had never imagined that someone would regard "death" as a bet in a game, and say it so nonchalantly, as if it were just an easy punishment after losing a game of chess.

Is this man... a lunatic? Or...

He looked into Kujo Renji's bottomless eyes. There was no trace of joking in them, only pure devotion and anticipation for the "game" itself.

At that moment, Kimura made a decision.

It's not because of attachment to life, nor because of fear of death.

It was because of the man in front of him named Kujo Renji, and the "game" he described with reality as the chessboard and life and death as the stakes, that finally made his long-frozen heart feel the flame of "interest" again.

"it is good."

Kimura nodded slowly and took the employee contract that symbolized the bet.

"I'll bet you."

He didn't look at the specific contents of the contract, but just held it tightly in his hand.

In the distance, the train whistle sounded, sharp and piercing. But this time, Kimura did not look at the cold rails.

His eyes were fixed firmly on Kujo Renji.

The trajectory of fate quietly changed at this moment.

...

That "game" that lasted for a year became the most profound, painful, and most...shocking experience in Kimura's memory.

The battlefield they chose was exactly the area where Kimura thought he was least likely to fail - finance and business investment.

This was the amazing talent he had shown since childhood and the capital he relied on to look down on everyone.

He was confident that with his far superior computing power, logical analysis skills and deep understanding of market rules, he would be invincible even if his opponent was a seemingly unfathomable figure like Kujo Renji.

However, reality gave him a slap in the face that was so loud that it was almost cruel.

The game begins.

They agreed that each would use the initial capital to conduct independent business operations and investments within one year, and the winner would ultimately be determined by the rate of asset appreciation.

Initially, Kimura quickly gained some advantages with his precise data analysis and familiarity with traditional business models. Several of the projects he selected achieved good early returns, and his investment portfolio grew steadily.

He even had an illusion at one point: Kujo Renji might just be a mystifying theorist, and his actual combat ability was just so-so.

But he soon discovered that he was extremely wrong.

Kujo Renji's methods were completely beyond Kimura's understanding.

He does not rely on cold data and established models. His decisions often seem fantastic and even contrary to common sense, but he can always grasp the pulse of the market at the most critical moment in an almost prophetic way, or in other words... create the pulse of the market.

Kimura remembered it clearly.

Once, he accurately analyzed the prospects of an emerging technology company. All the data pointed to this as a blue ocean market with huge potential, so he invested a lot of money.

Meanwhile, Kujo Renji chose to invest in a seemingly unrelated, even declining, traditional handicraft company. Kimura mentally laughed at his shortsightedness.

However, a few months later, policy shifts drastically, tightening regulations on emerging tech industries. The stock price of Kimura's investment company plummets, resulting in heavy losses. Meanwhile, the handicraft company Kujo Renji invested in, thanks to an unexpectedly popular documentary, gained traction, partnered with luxury brands, and saw its value soar, resulting in staggering returns.

Afterward, Kimura reviewed the situation and discovered with horror that Kujo Renji's tactics had long transcended simple business. He saw not the data or the financial statements, but the human nature behind the data, the undercurrents beneath the rules, and the complex web of power, desire, information, and timing.

He is like a chess player standing in a higher dimension, moving the chess pieces on the board at will. Those chess pieces are not just money and projects, but also include people's hearts, public opinion, and even policies.

Kimura is good at doing things to the extreme within the rules, while Kujo Renji seems to be able to see through the loopholes in the rules and even... make the rules.

Over the course of a year, Kimura experienced countless such crushing defeats. His vaunted business acumen seemed dull and ridiculous in the face of Kujo Renji's schemes; his fundamental logic, upon which he relied, proved vulnerable to the other party's unconventional and far-sighted vision.

He is like a chess master who strictly follows the rules, but meets an opponent who overturns the chessboard, speaks directly with his fists, and wins the game.

Every failure was like a heavy hammer, hitting Kimura's once indestructible pride.

He began to doubt himself and the entire cognitive system he had built over the past twenty years. The sense of failure he felt was far more intense and painful than the emptiness he had felt when he decided to commit suicide.

Even an emotion he had never experienced before began to grow quietly - inferiority.

Yes, inferiority complex.

In front of this man named Kujo Renji, this so-called "genius" felt for the first time as insignificant as a firefly facing the bright moon.

He even developed a sense of absurdity: "If there is Yu, why is there Liang?" It turned out that there really were heights in this world that he could not understand or reach.

The day the game ended, the outcome was clear. Kimura's assets had grown, but compared to Kujo Renji's miraculous rate of increase, it was nothing.

He lost.

...

They met at a high-end bar overlooking the entire Tokyo night view.

Kimura sat at the bar, drinking whiskey in silence.

He was ready to fulfill the bet. Although he instinctively resisted the idea of ​​"becoming someone else's subordinate", losing was losing.

Moreover, losing to someone like Kujo Renji didn't seem too shameful. Deep down, he even harbored a faint hope, hoping to learn from this man the "core gameplay" that he couldn't comprehend.

Kujo Renji appeared on time.

He sat down next to Kimura and ordered a glass of the same whiskey.

"It seems that the result is obvious."

Jiujo Renji shook the wine glass, and the ice cubes made a crisp sound when they collided. It was hard to tell whether his tone was one of satisfaction or sarcasm.

Kimura took a deep breath and took out the "employee contract" that he had treasured for a year from his pocket.

Although the paper was wrinkled from repeated rubbing, the handwriting was still clear. He pushed the contract in front of Jiujo Renji.

"I lost."

His voice was calm, but only he knew how much courage it took to say these three words.

"As agreed, this contract..."

However, before he could finish his words, Kujo Renji made an unexpected move.

He picked up the contract, without even looking at it, and tore it up.

scoff-

The sound of shredding paper was particularly harsh in the quiet bar.

Kimura was stunned, staring blankly at the fragments, then looked at Kujo Renji, his eyes full of confusion. "What... do you mean by this?"

Kujo Renji drank the whiskey in the glass and placed the torn contract against Kimura's chest.

“This game isn’t perfect, but it’s not completely useless either.”

His eyes reflected the brilliant night view outside the window, as if embracing this steel jungle constructed by desires and rules:

"Next, find new ways to play by yourself."

"Looking for...new ways to play?"

Kimura repeated in a low voice, his heart seemed to be hit hard by something.

"Yes."

Kujo Renji stood up, adjusted the collar of his windbreaker, and prepared to leave.

"The world is big, and there are many rules, explicit and implicit, legal and illegal... There's always one that suits you. Whether you continue to struggle within the rules of others, or try to create your own, it all depends on you."

He patted Kimura on the shoulder and left a final word:

"Stop calling it a 'trash game' until you've actually played it thoroughly."

After saying that, he turned and left, leaving Kimura alone, sitting in front of the bar in a daze, holding the broken contract in his hand, looking out the window at the endless night, speechless for a long time.

Kujo Renji tore up the contract, which meant that he was free in a legal sense.

He can return to his "boring" but safe world as before, or choose any path he wants.

But Kimura knew that he couldn't go back.